Hidden Magic
by Sparkling Moon Phoenix
Summary: Three years have gone by since Sarah defeated the Labyrinth and the King. Sarah has moved on with her life. Yet within the Labyrinth, magic has gone awry. A secret, long hidden within Sarah's past may hold the key to salvation for the Labyrinth and the surrounding lands.
1. Prologue: A Beginning

_**Hidden Magic:**_

 _ **Prologue: A Beginning**_

 **~:oOo:~**

An excerpt from the from _Change Arrives, Even in the Underground:_ written by the Watcher Zervan Voresse

Humans are rather fascinating, yet complex beings. One moment full of violence, the next brimming with such magnificence, works of beauty are created. Especially those of the written word. One race of humans in particular, those who possess Celtic blood, are natural born storytellers. One of the most ancient of human tribes, they respected the tradition of passing on myths and legends through the medium of stories.

Since humans eventually came to learn and utilize the power of the written word, over the passage of time, storytellers appeared all over the world. I am considered to be rather young for one of my race, a mere seven hundred years of age, yet I have walked amongst the world of Aboveground during various periods. I have witnessed with my own two eyes, the stories of humans develop into something beautiful. The writings of human storytellers have reached us here, even through the Great Rift, into the libraries of the Underground world.

Not all of the stories crafted by humans are true. Some are made of fantastical tales or of far off worlds, designed to thrill those who read such writings or lift the spirit. I do not count myself amongst those who claim the rank of storyteller.

I am a Watcher, one of those who must undertake a lifelong duty to ensure the balance of magic flowing between the Underground and Aboveground remains stable. In the carrying out of this task, I unwittingly found myself granted the title of 'storyteller' by those who came to read the following pages of this chronicle, rather a history of major changes which occurred in the Underground world.

The story I am about to impart to you, is not based in fantasy, it has a foothold in events that happened right before my eyes. Often I found myself to be involved. Not all of those who played a part in this were human or even magical at first.

Many of those who found they were personally caught up in the alterations found they also experienced an awakening of sorts, whether minor or one that caused life-paths to warp, is for them to relate. The events that are imprinted upon the following pages are truth. Many voices formed the history written upon the pages. My own thoughts are included.

The words, passed to me by others who went through the happenings forever made immortal to history are written on scrolls, printed within leather-bound books all humans are so fond of. For those who aren't possessed of a human body or aren't human at all, the entirety of the following truths have been taken from the memories of those who suffered or lived through what came to be known as the Great Cataclysm, are captured within the cores of memory crystals under the guardianship of the Order of Watchers. A second set of writings and memory crystals are secreted in location known only to a few members of the Crystal Light Clan of Seers.

There is a quote, spoken by a human writer, Anthony Mello, that I find to be appropriate.

 _ **"A lost coin is found by means of a candle; the deepest truth is found by means of a simple story."**_

A coin did not begin this truth. An emerald eyed human woman, of great will and spirit sparked the birth of this chronicle when she conquered the Labyrinth and the Goblin King who claimed the mystical maze as his territory. The events however, were felt outside the confines of the Goblin Kingdom.

I did learn one important truth of my own:

 _ **'Nothing is what it seems in this place.'**_

Even the soul, mind and will of a human cannot be taken for being ordinary. The first human I had the privilege of becoming personally acquainted with, was at first considered to be unremarkable by many, yet she proved to be exceptional. I know her still and count myself blessed to be called friend by her. This true story begins with her. I will not say how her presence commenced the tale. You will find out for yourselves.

Do you wish to know more? Turn the page and find out...


	2. A Letter

_**Hidden Magic**_

 _ **Chapter 1: A Right Mess**_

 **~:oOo:~**

Assistant Librarian Melusine Swiftwaters, member of the Wood-kin people, carefully walked into the office of the Chief Librarian, when her right foot sent a wad of crumpled parchment skittering over the polished wooden floor. She gazed downwards, grimaced when she noticed the amount of parchment, paper and blunt quills strewn over the floor of the office. Ink stained sheets were scattered atop a nearby desk, ink pots barely visible through the mass of white.

'By the Underground, what has he done now?' The young Librarian muttered quietly. She opened the catch of the silver rose broach keeping her serviceable grey woollen cloak closed. She tossed the garment over the back of a nearby storage chest. At the best of moments the High Librarian drove her to distraction. On this occasion however...

Melusine sighed. _Maybe he's really gone off the deep end this time. I've never known the senile old wanker to do something like this!_

Upon the corner of the large, debris strewn desk, lay a sheet of creamy, smooth parchment. This one had somehow escaped destruction. The ink gleamed, freshly scribed upon the parchment. Melusine recognized the distinct scrawl of the High Librarian. The writing appeared to indicate a letter had been written, not one scribed by her own hand.

'Perhaps I shouldn't read this...then again,' Melusine touched the missive carefully. 'No-one really tells Assistant Librarians anything. I'll read it.'

 **'Hail Zervan, Watcher of the Great Balance,**

 **My name is Hermes Inksniffer, Custodian of the Great Library and Archives of Prophecy of the Goblin Kingdom. I have yet to inform His Majesty of the problems I have been experiencing within the confines of the Library. For the past three years, magic long dormant has inexplicably flared to life. Even the basic magic used to copy texts for personal study have gone awry. For those who print books in the non magical way, business will be rather brisk for them until the magical means has been deemed safe to use again.**

 **Magical constructs used centuries prior to my appointment as Custodian to this rotting pile of shit and nonsense, are creating utter havoc for those who use this Library for study purposes. So many books lay in utter ruination, their pages ripped to pieces by those brainless, dimwitted golems created by magic. If I ever find out the name of the idiotic moron who possessed the gall to create these dumdums, I'll do something rather drastic.**

 **I'll rip out their guts, loop them around a tree stump and kick the one responsible off the edge of a cliff. Luckily for me, there are quite a few cliffs with attached stumps around here. I'll leave the culprit dangling there for a few centuries, whilst I attempt to find a solution to this utter mess!**

 **Reports from Cravendell, the Wood-kin Town nearby, give indications the problems my staff and I now live through on a daily basis are widespread. The Fae dwelling in the town do nothing to assist the other citizens. Most of them just sneer and walk by. Only the healer and seeress, members of the Crystal Light Clan have tried to provide assistance. I have received no response from the dwarven citizens of the town. Those stumpy twits are more interested in polishing precious gems and smelting iron ores. As for the human denizens of the town, as far as I'm aware, no-one has told them of the events unfolding here within these towering, mouldy book stacks.**

 **Both the healer and seeress have provided me with copies of the letters they have written and sent onto their Ruling Lady, Auriga Crystal Light. I have kept the originals here with me in the Archives. My scribes have copied both letters for your perusal. As the information contained within is of a sensitive nature, I have threatened dire punishment to any scribe who imparts knowledge to those who, at this particular instance, have no business to learn of.**

 **Perhaps a few hours hanging by their toes from the rafters in the local Troll pub will teach them to keep their mouths shut. I haven't heard of any breaches in security. The old punishments, or even the mention of them, seem to work the best.**

 **The powers of higher magic have gone awry. Simple elemental spells are working. Only the gifts of the healers function normally. I am glad of that. I have a rather persistent problem due to a rather irritating boil currently making itself known on my left buttock needs to be seen to. I'm glad the gifts of the healers use life energy. It is making me rather irritable. Believe me, when one is over three hundred years old and your joints ache, being able to sit down is heaven.**

 **That thing growing down there isn't helping me and my achy joints.**

 **By my hand and seal,**

 **Hermes Inksniffer, Chief Librarian'**

Melusine put the rough draft of the letter back where she originally found it. She quickly rifled through the untidy pile of crushed parchment and paper on her boss's desk, yet found nothing. The sly old fox obviously wouldn't leave important documents such as the one mentioned in his letter just laying on his desk for all to see. He kept them in a strongbox, under lock and key within the deepest storage vaults at the local bank.

Then a thought emerged from the deepest recesses of her mind. Did her crotchety old boss deliberately leave this copy of the letter under the colossal pile of garbage for her to find? Melusine smoothed non existent creases out of the parchment. Her friendships amongst those few humans who dwelled within the Labyrinth and surrounding lands was no secret.

Melusine frowned. _I bet he did leave this for me to discover. I'll never understand him. If he did, I'd better go and speak to the humans. I know of one person who I can trust implicitly. I'll clean up this mess later._

The High Librarian, despite his irascible nature, often kept the human population of Cravendell and the surrounding towns apprised of news he considered to be of great importance. Humanity were considered to be second class citizens and therefore beneath the notice of the Fae. The mortal humans were mostly a secretive lot, only allowing a few members of the other races close.

The Wood-kin Librarian picked up her cloak. She swung it over her shoulders, her footsteps a rapid staccato on the ancient wooden floors. All thoughts of punishment fled when she considered how the humans would react to the problems within their vicinity.


	3. A Timeless Watcher

_**Hidden Magic**_

 _ **Chapter 2: A Timeless Watcher**_

 **~:oOo:~**

Zervan stood at the cliff edge, her long white and gold robes fluttered slowly under the touch of the wind. Her cobalt eyed gaze affixed upon the distant moon, its radiance unblemished by cloud or messenger bird. Strangely enough, no sign of any winged creature appeared against the backdrop of the stars. For now she was glad of the respite, unexpected yet welcome, from the woodland pigeons used as messengers from the various kingdoms of the Underground world.

She knew of the imbalance rippling through the powers of magic. Her own Spirit powered calls to the ruling Lords of the Fae Clans went astray. Not one answered her queries for news of the state of other Kingdoms. Only the Ruling Lady of the Clan of Oracles responded. She remained ignorant until the first letters arrived. They came slowly at first, then thick and fast in the days that followed. She could not read them all. Her fellow Watchers assisted her and reported any news considered to be of importance.

Heaps of parchment, paper and discarded scroll tubes littered the ground near her bare feet. A rolled up tube of what appeared to be paper tucked into her belt. A softly aglow crystal orb cupped in the flesh and bone cradle of her hands. Images trapped within flickered rapidly by. A singular image pushed to the front. The face of an ebony haired, pale skinned, green eyed young woman. Zervan knew who the image represented: Sarah Williams, the Quester who conquered the Labyrinth and the Goblin King.

 _The girl is very similar to someone I once knew well, but who?_ The Watcher sighed. The crystal sent to her by Lady Auriga only awoke more questions. She placed the orb back into the small, homespun pouch it was delivered in. The trouble began three years ago. Perhaps once more reading the letter sent to her by Lady Auriga would trigger an intuition.

 **Hail, Zervan, Watcher of the Great Balance,**

 **As per your request for information of the disturbances currently happening throughout all the Fae Clan holdings and Kingdoms of the Underground world, I have sent a Memory Crystal for your perusal. The visions of my daughter Cassandra are captured inside. A low level Spirit spell should awaken the visions contained therein.**

 **Also contained with my letter, are missives from those who call my Clan lands home. The Wood-kin, Dwarves, Elves and Centaurs are reporting disturbances when attempts to utilize the powers of magic are made. I haven't received news from the humans who dwell in and around the City of Illustris. They are a rather secretive lot who tend to keep their daily lives rather private.**

 **I can impart one fact of note. Before the powers of Sight went awry, I caught a glimpse of possible pathways for the future of our entire world. The humans are the crux, the focal point of all of this. Great change is inevitable, the beginnings can be traced back to the last Quester of the Labyrinth. Also one last warning, mentions of a nameless fear walk the lands of the Underground. I sense an ancient, nameless evil stirs once more. For now, that is all I have to relate.**

 **Lady Auriga, Ruling Lady of the Crystal Light Clan.**

Zervan had indeed activated the visions contained within the Memory Crystal. Her friend Auriga confirmed what her own immense talents indicated. Great change was imminent. It had already arrived. Her duty as Watcher of the Great Balance granted her the capability to view at any particular moment, occurrences within any part of the Underground.

The humans living in the Underground felt different. Their life force appeared to be in a state of flux. During her long tenure as a Watcher of the Great Balance, she had only seen a similar event only once before. The birth of Merlin: the first human to be born with the gift of magic. His own life force fluctuated wildly until the gift awakened. This seemed to be occurring with the humans who called the Underground home.

 _What could possibly cause this on such a massive scale?_ Zervan placed the letter back inside her belt. _I must wait for further consequences to be revealed before I can reach a conclusion as to what has caused the life force of the humans to shift in such a way._

Never had her duties weighed so heavily upon her mind. Unless the rift in the Great Balance could be rectified, the damage could spill Aboveground. Both worlds were connected by a bridge. Under no circumstances could the link be severed.

 _Mistress, are you here?_

A voice, masculine in nature, sounded in her thoughts.

 _I should have known he was nearby._ She gazed into the shadows. 'I'm here Alexander. Alone with my thoughts and the problems of the Underground.'

A shape moved from within the gloom. After a few moments a large white wolf padded towards her on silent paws, his green and blue gaze fixed on her.

'How many times do I have to remind you not to call me Mistress?' Her reply held a note of gentle humour.

'The wolf sat down. _I do that to annoy you. According to the Old Clan Law, I have to acknowledge the power you have over me until my debt is repaid. You saved my life. Honour must be satisfied until I have fulfilled the obligation I have._

'Come, old friend. We must return to Clan Keep. I'll relate what I've learned over the past few days whilst you were away from here.' Zervan pulled her robes closer against her body. The great, white wolf followed the ancient Watcher, loping after her in the twilight.

The chill of winter crept into the night as surely as darkness bled into the world of the Underground.


	4. The Clan Keep

_**Hidden Magic**_

 _ **Chapter 3: Clan Keep of the Watchers**_

 **~:oOo:~**

The distant moon continued travelling across the night sky, as both Watcher and wolf made their way home through the first touch of winter's chill. Occasionally, the majestic wolf regarded the cloaked form of his mistress. Never had he known her to be so quiet. Zervan was known to be one of the more talkative members of the Council of Watchers. Her silence caused a faint sense of uneasiness to spark within his thoughts.

 _The news of magic's disruption is weighing heavily upon her mind. Even I, trapped in this form as I am, am able to detect the disturbance._ Alexander loped ahead, yet kept his mistress within direct line of sight. If a threat emerged, he would be at her side in a few seconds. Being confined in the physical shape of a wolf, did after all possess advantages.

His keen senses detected the movement of forest animals undertaking their normal twilight activities, on the hunt for a meal. The cry of an owl rang out in the night. A pale brown winged shape flew across the surface of the moon, then disappeared into the gloom of the trees. No ripple of magic raced across his mind. No Fae journeyed through Valeron Wood in their other-shape, only a normal owl.

A cold sting flared on his nose. _Winter has finally approached._

His breath erupted in a long, white plume. Despite his thick, white fur, the tang of frost and snow weighed heavily in the air. The first snows were imminent. He heard the soft call of his mistress. Alexander ran back to her side, warmth encompassed him. The Watcher cast a simple fire spell.

'Stay close to me.' Zervan whispered. 'Snow will fall thick and fast very soon. Thank the Underground I am still able to cast a basic heat aura. My fellow Watchers really do not like the smell of wet dog permeating the entirety of Clan Keep.'

 _Very funny. I could shift to a unicorn. Surely they won't mind horse manure?_ Alexander replied impishly.

Zervan chuckled lightly as an unasked for image presented itself. 'Whilst my fellow Watchers could sometimes have their daily lives livened up a bit, I have to put up with the complaints your antics invariably cause.'

 _Spoilsport._ Alexander grumbled.

The unusual pair continued to walk down the dark forest path. Under the light of the distant moon, a rather large, irregular shape emerged from the shadows. Zervan reached into her belt-pouch, withdrew a black bag. The ancient Watcher untied the rough twine, upending the contents into her fingers. Pearly radiance spilled forth as the object lay cradled within her fingers. She held a small light-crystal between her fingers. Overhead, clouds swollen with the virgin snows of the cold season, swept over the moon, given movement by the wind.

 _We'd better get inside. A storm is brewing. I've never seen one build up so fast!_ Alexander ran ahead, his feet barely touching the bare earth of the path leading to Clan Keep.

Zervan decided her fleet footed companion had the right idea. In all her years as the Ruling Lady of the Council of Watchers, never had she seen unnatural weather such as the encroaching storm. Abandoning dignity, she gathered up her cloak and robe, not afraid her legs were on display. She raised the light-crystal above her head and sent a mental command to the spell trapped inside the core. The brightness intensified, pushed through the twilight. The massive oaken doors were slightly ajar.

 _Propriety be damned, I am not about to let myself be caught outside._ Cold flakes of snow fell upon her woollen mantle. Zervan surged up the path. As fierce warmth from the Keep breathed over her, snow cascaded downwards. She burst through the doors, glad to be inside. She turned, pushing back the sodden hood of her cloak. Two guardsmen were slowly pushed the doors closed. She managed to catch a brief glimpse of the rapid fall of snow when a loud boom sounded. The guards locked the doors for the night and slid the massive beams into place.

Zervan sighed. Her cold fingers shook as she fumbled with the metal broach holding her cloak against her body. Now as she stood within the vestibule of the Keep, she realized the scope of the problem. The elemental branches of magic were in complete imbalance. Only the most basic of spells were able to be cast safely. The crackle and snap of burning logs caught her attention. She moved in front of the fire, the broach unfastened.

Footsteps came from behind her. A young woman, garbed in the brown and silver apprentice robes of the Order stood close by. On a wooden table lay a crystal decanter, filled to the brim with steaming brown liquid, small cups beside it. From the rich, earthy scent, Zervan recognized the contents as valeris tea, a healer's remedy often used to warm the body.

'Ancient One, please allow me to assist you.' The quiet murmur of the girl's voice reached her ears.

The young girl handed Zervan a cup of valeris tea, proceeded to pull the sodden cloak from the Watcher's shoulders. Zervan sipped at her fragrant tea, as the apprentice placed the garment on a nearby drying rack. The concerns and weight of her position came to the front of her mind. The message scroll from Lady Auriga and the sight-crystal were important reminders of her ultimate duty: to protect the balance of magic within the Underground world.

She drained the last dregs of tea from the cup. Reaching for the decanter, an idea came to her. She poured another dose of herbal tea. Her young attendant busied herself, placed more wood on the fire. Warmth slowly filtered into the vestibule. Her involuntary shivers slowly halted.

 _The archives of the prior leaders of the Order!_ The knowledge of her predecessors could perhaps give an indication of whether fluctuations in the Great Balance occurred before. Being leader of an Order such as the one she belonged to, did after all possess advantages. She had access to more than the sizeable library the acolytes used for their own personal studies. Despite the hour having grown quite late, the Watcher didn't feel any inclination towards sleep. She handed the now empty cup back to the young acolyte, thanked the girl for her assistance and dismissed her for the night.

Of her lupine companion, Alexander, there was no sign. Zervan knew the wolf possessed a great love of food. _He must be begging food from the cooks in the Refectory. Serves him right if he is chased out of the kitchens._

Warmth now flooded through the vestibule, into the adjoined passageway. The Watcher left her cloak near the fire to dry out. She didn't require the garment for the next few days. Already her thoughts were occupied with the information she might unearth within the cavernous depths of the Lower Archives.

As she walked through the gloomy corridor, light-crystals affixed high up on the stone walls reacted to her magical presence, radiance aglow in the cores. When she passed each one, the captured spells extinguished. She encountered no other Watcher or acolyte on her solitary journey to her private chambers.

 _I must remember to pen an entry in my own private Journal._ An ornately carved oak door appeared in her line of sight. _I cannot sleep after the large pile of missives I have read._

She placed her right hand, palm faced toward the wood, on the centre of the door. A burst of silver magic erupted from her hand, then flowed into the oaken panels. The door creaked as it slowly opened under the accord of the spell Zervan cast. As restless Watcher stepped through into her quiet chamber, pale lunar radiance bathed crystals set upon a small altar set upon a table at the back of the room. A cold rush of air, laced with the heavy scent of winter. Zervan cursed, she had left a tower window open. She hadn't expected the arrival of winter to approach with the rapidity it had. With the hour so late, she made to quietly close the chamber door, when the light of the other two moons spilled over the votive crystals on her writing desk and altar burst afire with magic.

Rays of pale brilliance, emanating from the distant, triple moons hung low upon the dark horizon, spilled through the open tower window. The beams of lunar radiance were not the only source of illumination within the dimly lit chamber. Resting upon the top of a small tripod lay a perfect crystal sphere, crimson fire aglow from within the core. _I knew I had not remembered to extinguish the light from the fire-globe._

The spell-born brightness penetrated the shadows, revealing a sheet of smooth paper weighted down by paperweights, on the surface of a polished wooden desk. An uncapped bottle of ink, and a glass writing implement propped against the stained rim stood nearby, testament to the fact someone had recently used them. A stray beam of lunar radiance fell upon a shadowy doorway located in the back wall. A stray flash of light fell upon a sheaf of papers. Most of them were rolled up into a scroll, the myriad pages held closed by a smooth, silken cord. A gust of wind crept through the window, teasing one corner of a loose sheet free. Moonlight stirred over the surface. Elegant, flowing script shone under its influence, appearing dark against the whiteness of the page. The beginnings of what appeared to be a Chronicle rested on the desk. The individual who wrote the words however could not be seen. For the moment only the wind knew what had been written. The top page disturbed by the breeze fluttered slowly to the moon stained floor.

No mortal eye glimpsed the freshly scribed words on the page's surface, except the wind. The wind is everywhere, touching all things. The single page moved again, pushed by the spectral fingers of the breeze. The page halted within the centre of the moonlight. Zervan realized she hadn't worked on the Chronicle she would eventually place in the Lower Archives when her duties as the Ruling Lady of her Order terminated.

 _I wish I could close the window._ Zervan called upon her connection to the element of fire. She cast a simple fire based shield spell. The sensation of cold diminished to a bearable level. She decided to leave the window open until her bonded aura bird Ailia returned from her nightly hunt. _Since I am unable to fall asleep I should continue on the beginnings of my own personal Chronicle._

She walked over to the fallen page and picked it up. She read the opening paragraphs of the page and smiled. Despite her efforts to not open the Chronicle in the manner of a storyteller or Lore-keeper, she had done so.

 _ **In accordance with the last request set down by the first Ruling Lady of the Order, I, Zervan Voresse, Bonded to the Aura Bird Ailia, ordained as Ruling Lady of the Order of Watchers declare these words to be truth. May the Goddess Danu strip my powers of magic if my words prove to be false.**_

 _ **"Here, listen. This is the story I wish to tell you. Remember this tale and never forget."**_

 _ **The last time I heard those words spoken by a Lore-keeper now seems more than a distant recollection. I heard those words multiple times during my days as a child. The Lore-keeper of my Clan always began a lesson with those very words. Now I use those words. It seemed highly appropriate at least to me, to note down my own story in this particular way. The events I now relate and my own unique role I played in the forging of the life-paths of others are a true account. I leave behind my words, set to paper, onto parchment and captured within crystal for unborn generations to read. The tragic errors of the past must not be repeated. I hold within me the hope the Chronicle I write shall teach others, as I found myself tutored in lessons by the various souls I met as I travelled.**_

 _ **I am a devotee of the Goddess of Magic, dedicated to the path of Water and Fire. I set my life by certain tenets. All followers must undergo a journey and record in a personal Chronicle important occurrences they encounter along the way. As a last-born child I never possessed high expectations for my life. I believed I would become a Priestess of Danu, pledged in service at one of the many temples throughout the world of the Underground, as mortals call the realm I live in. I didn't realize how wrong that assumption would prove to be. I recall the Sibyl of my Clan who told me my life-path was clouded. The paths of the Life Web didn't reveal a vision for me. That irregularity first indicated a problem with the flows of magic coursing through the entirety of the world.**_

 _ **My own life-path warped drastically when my Rite of Choice indicated I would follow a path no-one had for over ten thousand years. My journey began at a certain Temple. I won't tell you the location. You'll discover that for yourselves. The Temple held many secrets, dated from the era when the presence of the Ancient Ones shook the foundations of the world. More than legends were cradled within this enigmatic place, protected by little known beings who shared kinship with their older cousins.**_

 ** _To my joy I found and intertwined my soul's essence with a creature long thought to be mythical by my people. They were once called 'little brothers and sisters of the skies.' I still cannot believe how fortunate I am. I would die before I relinquish my bond with Ailia. In her I found a kindred spirit. How we met I will not relate so early in this Chronicle. The memories are there for you all to experience, confined within the cores of_ _sacred recolligere safely kept within the ClOWER Archives, located within the lower depths of the Wactcher's Keep._**

 _ **Ailia taught me how to do this, so those with the ability to merge with the energies of the Life Web Paths will know more fully my experiences. The creation of memory crystals are also meant for those who will never possess the physical ability to write. This may seem rather peculiar to you, yet it isn't to those who utilize such receptacles. As you read on you will understand.**_

 _ **As for who and what Ailia is you ask? She is the other half of my heart, soul-sister of my spirit. How we encountered each other is a pivotal moment. Such a meeting was only a link in a larger series of events whose origins reached into the earliest history of my people. A tragedy, enigmatic and ancient would prove to be the cause of magic's disruption. The fate of two races, intertwined with the disappearance of beings possessed of wisdom and immense capacity for magic walked the depths of the Underground. My words, now a part of history shall relate the combined paths of those who played an important role in the nullification of a colossal error committed by the Ancient Ones.**_

 _ **A few of the people who revived the potency of magic had long since passed from the world. The legacy those long deceased souls left behind, imprisoned in the forms of mystically crafted objects showed us the way. Both the races of Fae and humanity would encounter great changes. As I remember it now, all of this started when I encountered a human woman with brilliant emerald eyes. They were the mark of something that had been forgotten. Which should have never been relegated to fragments of myth and barely recalled legend. None of the Sibyls of my people could have predicted the influence she and others like her would bring to the world or how they did so.**_

 _ **It was then I learned the true meaning of the phrase:**_

 _ **'Never judge a scroll by the contents. Always use your own eyes to discern the truth.'**_

 _ **I learned the truth behind those words for myself. A pledge springs to mind, one I believe with the entirety of my spirit. I still recall the moment I swore my life in service once again to the Goddess Danu, the day I affirmed my oaths to follow a way of life thought to be extinct.**_

 _ **'We live for the One, we die for the One.'**_

 _ **The One who was, Vita, lived over ten thousand years ago. The One who is, well you shall have to discover for yourself. Yet I can tell you, all of this began with a flash of blue light; one that appears every one hundred years, deep within the lands once held by the Ancients. They are long gone from the world. Yet their presence is still felt, intertwined within the elements. Despite the passage of time, traces of them remain.**_

 _ **My life has been long, extended by the touch of the Goddess herself. I have witnessed countless Sunrisings and Sunfallings. The world has altered, darkness now holds sway over life. Light is failing, its power has receded. Ancient darkness, once thought to be banished by the One who was, is now breaking free of the bonds once holding it imprisoned. My connections to the elements warn me of this.**_

 _ **All of the races are diminished in some way. Even those of us with magic within our blood, bone, flesh and spirit are not as our ancestors once were. If you wish to know how the ageless race of Fae split asunder, one of Light, one of Dark, then continue through the Chronicle. The story, albeit true, is rather an extensive one. Many forged the chapters, many will have a hand within it still. The story is not yet over. A vibrant flash of blue light, born anew every century, signals the birth of a new chapter. Light, as well as Dark take notice of the sign. Only a handful of living souls know the import of this. I am one of the few who are privy to what this indicates.**_

Zervan chuckled. Perhaps a storyteller or Lore-keeper had been in her Clan a few generations back.


	5. No So Young Anymore

_**_Hidden Magic_**_

 _Chapter 4: Not A Child Any longer_

 **~:oOo:~**

 _"Inside each of us is a natural born storyteller just waiting to be released." - Robin Moore_

Even at the age of twenty, Sarah Williams still loved the quote she unearthed during her later years at high school. After the incident with her brother Toby and the defeat of the Goblin King, Sarah began to put away the last remnants of her childhood. She willingly gave up her cherished teddy bear Lancelot, passing him to her baby brother. A gift from herself to her young sibling. A few hours after she and Toby returned from their adventures in the Labyrinth, she realised she had gained more than just her brother back during her trials within the twisted depths of the Labyrinth. The import of those lessons would return to aid her, many years later.

She put away her toys and costumes, boxed them up, banished to the garage. The letters she posted to her mother were returned to her, with no explanation given. The desire she once held to follow in the footsteps of her mother and enter the world of acting began to fade from the mind of the young teenager. The tone of her thoughts began to transition from those focussed upon childhood to the beginnings of adulthood, especially the path the rest of her life could invariably follow.

However, she kept all of the fantasy books she read as a child. Perhaps the myriad volumes were a reminder of the time she spent in the Labyrinth. Yet the presence of the tales of magic and faraway times ignited something deep within her heart, mind, spirit and body. Sarah made the decision to become a writer. The young girl wasn't stupid. All the promises her actress mother made and then failed to fulfil did not sit well with her. Her decision made at the age of fifteen, after she returned from the Labyrinth with her brother, was once again affirmed. Drama classes were still attended by the young woman, yet during any spare time she found herself to possess, she began to take her first steps onto the path of writing. Whenever the local high school she attended offered free creative writing classes during the summer holidays, her name was always the first on the list. Invariably, as Sarah matured, her thoughts turned to what she could accomplish after she attained her high school diploma.

With the passage of years, she matured from a girl-child to a young woman. The traces of luminous beauty she displayed as a teenager blossomed fully as the years passed swiftly by. Her hair darkened to a deep shade of brown. Her skin became the hue of porcelain with no apparent blemishes. Her eyes remained a vivid colour of emerald, yet sometimes darkened or lightened depending on her mood at any given moment. She never grew any taller, yet developed curves in all the right places. She never considered herself to be a beauty, yet others told her she was. Her attention remained fixed upon following the path to becoming an author.

Five years later she found herself in the City of London, with the intention of studying for an English Degree. She enrolled at the University of Westminster. After a year dwelling in the Halls of Residence, she found a room in one of the nearby student digs near the University, as well as a job at one of the local tea shops. Before long, she developed a taste for herbal tea. It was on one such warm summer day, sipping from one of her favourite blends of fruity tea, when she sighed, massaged her temples. A headache throbbed just behind her eyes.

 _I'll need some painkillers soon. Blast it, I'm taking a break._ Sarah saved the document she was currently working on, shut down Microsoft Write and ejected the floppy disc from the slot. She waited until the computer shut itself down, then put the disc into the box where she kept copies of all her assignments, as well as the notes for her book as the final project for her English Degree. With her work for the session that day, safely packed away for the day, she vacated the room she called her own, her intention to search for some pain medication generally kept in the medicine box in the communal bathroom.

The sign on the door to said bathroom never ceased to make her laugh, although the language used could have been a bit more polite. Her eyes once again drank in the crudely written sign affixed to the white painted door.

 _'Just a quick note to all the dirty buggers, otherwise known as the male occupants of this shared house, PLEASE FLUSH THE LOO AFTER YOU HAVE A SHIT! Sarah and I never leave the toilet in such a state after we use the bathroom. Honestly, were you lot brought up in a BARN?'_

Only one person could have left that note: the other female in a shared house, Becky Johnson. Sarah grinned. The budding headache receded a fraction. Her fellow housemate revealed herself to be a rather feisty Londoner. Sarah liked her from the first instance she met Becky. The two had been steadfast friends from that particular moment. Sarah quickly recalled the many occaisons she had to escort home a very inebriated Becky after a night out on the town when the two went on a drinking spree exploring London's vibrant night life.

No slivers of light crept out from under the closed door, a signal the room lay unoccupied. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She flicked the light on, opened the cabinet, retrieved the sought after box of paracetamol. She turned the light off. With the box of painkiller in hand, Sarah walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She downed the pain relief in one go. After noticing she had used the last of the paracetamol, she made a note on the shopping list pinned to the fridge.

As she picked up the kettle to check the water level, she noticed a parcel with her name written on it. The writing appeared to be that of her friend Becky. She ripped off the plain wrapping, only to be met with the sight of a few books. Most of the covers were slightly bent in a few places, yet Sarah didn't mind the imperfections. These books were ones Sarah hadn't read yet. To her, a new book to read was a great treasure indeed. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, Sarah flipped open the first book. A folded slip of paper lay under the first page. Curious, Sarah opened the note.

 _'Hi Sarah!_

 _Just thought I'd drop a note to see how you are doing! I won't be back for a few days as my dad has dragged me back home to celebrate my birthday with my brothers. I hope you aren't over doing things with that damned computer! I still can't stand to use a device like that. I prefer to handwrite my essays. You seem to be getting on well with using that infernal machine. I've left behind a few fantasy books of mine I'm sure you haven't read or even heard of yet. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. READ THEM! You need some time away from your studies. You work far too hard!_

 _Becky xxx'_

Laughing, Sarah felt the last of her headache recede. She tucked the note back inside the first book. She heard the loud whistle of the kettle. The water had finally boiled. Sarah retrieved the small jar of fruity tea she preferred to drink and a special tea pot she used to brew and infuse the tea leaves to the desired strength. Sarah pondered the message left by her friend for a moment. Why the heck not? She'd been working on her degree papers far too much lately. With the tea still brewing to the level she enjoyed, she went to a certain drawer, pulled it open.

Sarah smirked with delight. The male occupant's of the household still hadn't discovered the little hidey hole Becky and herself put into this particular cupboard. After fiddling with the back of the drawer for a moment, she retrieved a huge bar of Cadburys Dairy Milk chocolate. Just the sight of the bar of chocolate wrapped in purple had her drooling. She really hadn't relaxed for ages.

 _There is nothing better than chocolate, my favourite tea, no men around and a few good books. I'm taking the day off from everything. Screw it, I've decided. No more work today!_

Sarah checked the brewed tea with a cautious sniff. Finally, she could drink her most favourite blend. Picking up the tea pot, cup, books and chocolate, she made her way to the communal lounge. Silence reigned. She really had the whole place to herself. For her, this seemed to be her personal idea of heaven on earth, well until one of her childhoood dreams managed to become reality.

Sarah sat down on the most comfortable chair in the communal lounge, one with a table next to it. She placed her treasures within easy reach. She snapped off several pieces of chocolate from the rather large bar, examined the cover of the first book. The author's name she had heard of.

 _David Eddings - Author of the Belgariad._

She had never seemed to be able to purchase any of his books. Growing up in America, especially during her late teenage years, she often left the house early, to avoid contact with her stepmother Karen. The two of them still didn't get along. She spent time in the local library reading anything she could about the craft of writing. One of the librarians, Mrs Stevenage, noted the young woman's enthusiasm for the written word. Before long, the two became friends, with the older woman often inviting the younger back to her office for tea and cakes. Although of different ages, the two shared a love of fantasy books. Especially of the works of Tolkein. Sarah carried around a very battered copy of the Lord of the Rings she inadvertantly purchased from a second hand bookshop in Greenwich. That particular location in London was a veritable mountain of used book stores.

Sarah often wrote back to the one of the few adults over the years who seemed to take an interest in her life. The only other person she wrote regularly too, was her younger brother, Toby. Their relationship had grown over the years. She found, to her great surprise, she missed the charming little boy terribly. A half written letter lay unfinished on her desk, next to the infernal machine her British friend loathed so deeply. That particular letter she would finish later.

Sarah flipped open the cover of the hardback novel, when a small package fell into her lap.

 _Author's note: sorry about the swear word in the notice. I HAVE actually seen one like that posted on a bathroom door in a shared student's digs! Plus Microsoft Write was the early template for the modern version of MS Word most of us use today._


End file.
